When Apologies Carry Privilege: Unpacking the Church’s Blind Spots in Reconciliation

“If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honoured, all rejoice together.” – 1 Corinthians 12:26 (NRSV)

A History of Words That Could Not Heal Alone

Since the 1980s, several Christian denominations in Canada have offered apologies to Indigenous Peoples for their role in the residential school system.

The United Church of Canada was first, in 1986, followed by the Anglican Church in 1993, the Presbyterian Church in 1994, and the Catholic Church through its bishops in 2021 and Pope Francis in 2022. The Evangelical Lutheran Church, Pentecostal Assemblies, and some Mennonite conferences have also made statements acknowledging harm and calling for healing.

Each apology spoke of sorrow, responsibility, and the desire for new relationships. But for many survivors and Indigenous communities, these words — though meaningful — did not erase the pain or rebuild trust overnight.

Because reconciliation cannot be scripted. It is not a program or a checkbox. It is, in its truest form, a spiritual journey of rebuilding relationship — one that demands humility, awareness, and action.

When Apologies Become Comfortable

Apologies can feel redemptive to those who make them. For church leaders, standing before a crowd and saying “we are sorry” may seem like a moment of great spiritual honesty. But sometimes, the very act of apology becomes the end point — as though the work of reconciliation were finished with a well-crafted statement and a few tears.

In this way, apologies can carry privilege. They can become a way for institutions to relieve guilt without relinquishing power. A way to mark the work as done, instead of beginning it.

When churches issue apologies to Indigenous Peoples, the words often come wrapped in a subtle kind of privilege — the expectation of closure. That privilege assumes that confession is enough, and that forgiveness will follow on schedule.

For Indigenous communities, these apologies often land differently. When Christians ask, “Have you forgiven us yet?”, it subtly re-centres the Church — measuring reconciliation by their sense of closure rather than the community’s healing. It assumes forgiveness is quick, linear, and managed. But deep wounds do not move by timelines.

But in truth, forgiveness cannot be scheduled or managed. To insist that it should come quickly, or that it should look a certain way, reveals the Church’s historical habit of controlling the narrative — the same pattern that justified the residential school system under the guise of “saving souls.”

This is what theologian Willie James Jennings calls the colonial imagination of the Church: a mindset where repentance itself can still become a project of dominance, not healing.

Healing happens at the speed of truth. And it is not coincidence that in the Indigenous framework of sacred teachings that truth is embodied by the turtle.

The Privilege of Historical Distance

When Christians respond to reconciliation conversations by saying “that was in the past” or “my denomination wasn’t involved,” they participate in another form of privilege — the privilege of historical distance. It assumes that colonialism is over, that harm was isolated, and that we now stand safely outside of it.

But history is not a closed book when its pages still shape our present.

Christians who believe their denomination was uninvolved should remember Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 12:26: “If one member suffers, all suffer together.” To be the Church means carrying those wounds together, not distancing ourselves from them. In Christ, there is no exemption clause. If the Church is one body, then the wounds of Indigenous peoples are not their history — they are our shared history.

As an Indigenous Believer hearing these words within congregations at present indicates to me the Doctrine of Discovery — a theological justification for dispossession and assimilation — continues to live within the Church's DNA and in the shape of its structures, property holdings, and even its language of mission. You can still see it when Churches:

• Own land without acknowledging whose territory it sits on.

• Claim moral authority over land without acknowledging its original stewards,

• Define “nation-building” as expansion and economic progress, rather than relationship

• Frame evangelism as “bringing light” to those deemed “in darkness.”

• Treat Indigenous expressions of faith as syncretism rather than sacred revelation.

So even if a denomination never ran a residential school, the logic and "moral principles" that justified those schools may still be present in its theology, its hymnals, and its boardroom tables.

This is the privilege of historical distance that the Church must be aware of today — to imagine colonialism as finished, and to see our comfort as the fruit of hard work rather than the inheritance of dispossession.

Reconciliation Fatigue or Reconciliation Gift?

Within many congregations, a quiet fatigue continues to grow. “Do we have to keep talking about this?” some say. This weariness is real — but it reveals something deeper: that reconciliation is still seen as a burden rather than a gift.

In Scripture, repentance is never presented as exhausting; it is liberating. It frees the heart from denial, and the community from the weight of unacknowledged sin. Reconciliation, then, is not endless guilt — it is the invitation to live truthfully.

What if the Church saw reconciliation not as a chapter of national history, but as a spiritual practice? Not as a social duty, but as an act of discipleship?

Living Beyond Words

Apologies without awareness of privilege risk becoming just another chapter in the same story of dominance — the Church still deciding when reconciliation is complete.

But when an apology becomes a doorway to humility, justice, and shared leadership, it reflects the heart of Christ, who encouraged forgiveness among his followers but, more importantly, embodied it through sacrifice.

Even a tax collector from Jesus' time shows us the way forward — that forgiveness in Scripture is not detached from justice and repentance. When Zacchaeus met Christ, he eagerly responded to forgiveness with restitution:

“If I have wronged anyone, I will repay them fourfold.” (Luke 19:8)

If churches were to live into their apologies in line with Scripture, the following framework emerges:

A. Confession (1 John 1:9)

• Continue acknowledging complicity in colonial systems without defensiveness.

• Public confession in worship services and theological education settings.

B. Repentance (Luke 3:8; Acts 26:20)

• “Bear fruit in keeping with repentance.” For example, supporting language revitalization, Indigenous theological training, and land-based ministries.

C. Restitution (Luke 19:8–9; Exodus 22:1)

• Move from words to repair: land return, funding for healing programs, and inclusion of Indigenous leadership in decision-making.

D. Relationship (2 Corinthians 5:18–19)

• Reconciliation is relational: restoring kinship and trust between peoples, not just fixing policy.

E. Renewal (Isaiah 61:1–4)

• Building together what was broken: co-developing ministries that affirm Indigenous theology, land, and culture.

In biblical terms, repentance (Greek: metanoia) means a change of mind and direction. It’s not a press release — it’s a lifelong turning away from harmful systems and toward justice, humility, and repair.

True reconciliation is not the Church being forgiven —it’s the Church being transformed.

For churches that have apologized and those who wish to live into the words spoken by their Church leaders, the call now is not to repeat the apology — but to embody it. To live into the words they spoke. That means:

• Support returning decision-making power to Indigenous voices at different tables.

• Acknowledging and reforming theological teachings that upheld colonial dominance.

• Seeing land not as property, but as covenant.

• Teaching congregations that forgiveness cannot be demanded — it must be earned through faithful relationship.

To move beyond privilege, the Church must:

• Listen without control — allow survivors and Indigenous communities to lead the process of defining healing.

• Return what was taken — through land stewardship agreements, funding for Indigenous-led ministries, and policy reform.

• Reform its theology — confronting the Doctrine of Discovery and teaching about it in seminaries and congregations.

• Resist performative repentance — ensuring that apologies are lived, not archived.

Apologies are sacred beginnings, but they are not sacred ends. To heal, the Church must keep walking, even when the journey is uncomfortable.

A Closing Reflection

When read through a biblical lens, many church apologies demonstrate sincere confession and humility — yet Scripture invites them further, into restorative justice and embodied repentance.

Biblically, reconciliation is never static. It is a journey of transformation where truth, justice, and love meet. For the Church, this means not only saying “we are sorry” but living in a way that continually seeks to heal relationships, restore justice, and honour the image of God in Indigenous Peoples and the land itself.

To that end, reconciliation will always require truth-telling, humility, and courage. It asks the Church not to manage Indigenous pain, but to make space for Indigenous presence — as equal partners, as teachers, and as nations in their own right.

As Jesus said,

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)

The hunger for righteousness is not fatigue — it is faith. And when the Church finally learns to see reconciliation as grace rather than obligation, then perhaps its apologies will truly become acts of resurrection in this land and for future generations.

Heavenly God,

We acknowledge that you are the source of all life and of reconciliation. We know that you are the original architect of reconciliation, that it is not a buzz word of the present, but it is what you have been doing since the time we were created.

We bring before You the wounds of our past — the harm done through words, through systems, through silence. We remember that children were taken from homes, families were disrupted, and nations displaced.

We thank You for the voices that have called the Church to accountability,
and for the apologies spoken in humility by our leaders.

May these words of remorse not rest as ink on paper, but rise as living prayers in our hearts.

Teach us to listen without controlling,
to walk alongside without assuming forgiveness,
to act without defensiveness,
to give without measuring.

Renew our hearts so that our confessions lead to restitution,
our sorrow to justice,
and our repentance to faithful service.

Bless the nations that were here before us,
the peoples whose wisdom and stewardship shaped this land,
and the communities who teach us that reconciliation is a sacred journey, not a checkbox.

We ask that you show us how to mirror that blessing. And when this looks uncomfortable, would you have the grace to give us a glimpse into what this future looks like for your Kingdom. 

Help us to continue to turn toward truth, and may our actions embody the love, humility, and justice You call us to.

Help us remember that forgiveness is a gift, and reconciliation a lifelong practice.

Amen.